Ripping the piss since 1888

“….and I said to Hymie. Hymie my friend, it’ll never make money. Oi vay!”

Embattled Labour Party leader, Jeremy Corbyn, has been attempting to allay fears that his party is riddled with anti-Semitism by actively seeking a member of Whitechapel’s Jewish community to look after the petty cash box in the canteen at Labour Party headquarters.

We spoke to Corbyn yesterday afternoon in Whitechapel Road where he had been approaching orthodox jews in the street and visiting a number of small tailor’s shops down some of the side roads.

Appearing relaxed and cheerful he told us: “Since all this unfortunate business with Ken Livingstone calling Hitler a zionist, the party’s been under the cosh a bit from the press boys. I’ve therefore decided to prove that anti-Semitism within The Labour Party is a myth by hiring a Jew to handle the canteen petty cash box at party HQ. After all, when it comes to money, you can always rely on the Jews to have their heads screwed on can’t you? I might even let his wife work in the kitchen if she fancies it. I’m sure the lads won’t mind tucking into a few bagels or salt beef sandwiches from time to time.

When we spoke to a few Jewish people in a local eaterie, there was a mixed reaction. One elderly man told us: “Well, at least he’s making an effort I suppose. I still think Red Ken’s a wrong un mind you”

However, a young woman with a child said: “Work for that miserable old sod? You must be joking. Have you seen the state of his clothes? And as for that dodgy beard…he looks like he could do with a bloody good wash if you ask me”

This latest move by The Labour Party is reminiscent of the occasion in 1968 when Prime Minister, Harold Wilson, moved to dispel rumours that he was a racist by taking his wife and kids to see The Black and White Minstrel Show at the Victoria Palace Theatre followed by a trip to a Caribbean restaurant for curry goat with rice and peas.

Advertisements

Share this:

Like this:

LikeLoading...

The Whitechapel Whelk

We are a small, but perfectly formed band of satirists and smudge artists. We neither drink nor smoke. Nor indeed, do we use profanity or indulge in the sinful pleasures of the flesh. Now if you'll excuse me I need to get down the pub before closing time for a few pints and half an ounce of Golden Virginia. Hopefully, I'll have enough cash left to visit the local rub 'n' tug shop later for a massage and a rattling good bunk up with a painted floozie.
All The Best.
Danny SoZ.
Editor-in-chief